My agent is here, and he has brought his contract for me to sign. Wood, in equal trepidation. Hadn’t they settled that already? “I want you as a friend,” he persisted, almost as if he disputed something. His sword then came in for his scrutiny: he felt at, and appeared satisfied with its edge. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. Gerald, intent on his trail, ignored it. And yet, at the end of this prayer a subconscious thought broke through to consciousness.
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